


Some Peace and Quiet (At Least for a While)

by CopperCaravan



Series: Dragon Age Prompt Fills [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, Fenera Mahariel, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:18:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperCaravan/pseuds/CopperCaravan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-Blight fluffy drabble. For an anon prompt: Merrill and m/f Mahariel and flowers. The girls laze about in a meadow and make flower crowns like fluffy little hipster elves. Can be read as platonic or romantic (although I'm sure my leanings are quite transparent).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Peace and Quiet (At Least for a While)

“We’re going to get in so much trouble, Mahariel,” she says, plucking up blades of grass and twisting them between her hands. The Keeper will find out; she always does.

“We’re fine, Merrill. Stop worrying so much.” Mahariel is stretched out on her back in the tall grass. Merrill can barely see her, even so close as she is. It’s lovely out here—dangerous, so close to the shemlen farms, but they’ll be careful. They aren’t hurting anything after all, just lazing about in the grass and the breeze of coming autumn and enjoying the sky. This time of year, the blue is... _thin,_ she thinks. _Like it’s been stretched out over the world._ It’s a lovely, thin blue fading to white as it approaches the horizon. But still, her stomach churns at the thought of getting caught by the Keeper or, even worse, by Hahren Paivel.

Merrill doesn’t know how she can be so calm, lying there almost dozing. Then again, Mahariel gets in trouble a lot. _A lot._  Besides Junar, Mahariel probably gets in trouble more than anyone else. Maybe she’s used to it.

She tries to make herself relax, placing the wet, shredded grass gingerly on the ground beside her. She takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes, focusing on the cool air grazing her arms and the yellow of the sun shining warm through her eyelids.

But it doesn’t work. It’s so quiet here—they’re too far out for animals and birds, but too far in for the sounds of farming humans. The silence is more distracting than sound could ever be. When there are sounds, there are things to hear, things to focus on, things to pay attention to.

“Do you come out here often, Mahariel?” She says, turning and leaning a bit over her friend’s face. _She looks so serene,_ Merrill thinks. _She must enjoy the quiet._

“Yeah,” she says, eyes still closed and a grin spreading across her face. “I like the sun.”

Merrill understands that. There are few places in the forest, especially near camp, where she can see the sun and the sky, uninterrupted by the canopy of trees. The trees are nice, of course, but this is nice too.

“Let me show you something Ineria taught me,” Mahariel says, rising from her rest.

She takes a few steps away, in the direction of the tilled fields just barely in view, and Merrill worries she’ll go too far. She doesn’t understand how Mahariel can risk going closer, not after... her fretful eyes wander straight to Mahariel’s ear, nicked just slightly and still healing. She shivers. _That’s why we move around so much,_ she thinks, drawing her eyes away. She wonders if it still hurts. But she shouldn’t ask; that might upset Mahariel.

And anyway, she’s on her way back now, having hardly gone a few yards away. Her hands are full of flowers—flowers with thin yellow petals and cute little white ones and clover. She retakes her seat, a few inches closer to Merrill, their shoulders touching as Mahariel strings the stems together. It’s still quiet, still a bit worrisome, but things feel safer while Merrill watches her work, her fingers tying knots and piercing stems with delicate precision. It’s not the sort of thing Merrill had expected Mahariel—loud and brash and witty—to be able to do.

Before long, she’s got a full loop of flowers, and she sets the wreath gently on Merrill’s hair.

“This is so lovely,” Merrill says, genuinely pleased with her new crown.

“It looks nice on you,” Mahariel tells her, securing a few stray strands of hair behind Merrill’s ear. Merrill can feel the warmth on her face, but Mahariel doesn’t blush or even look the slightest bit shy. That makes Merrill’s blush even deeper, and she looks at the tiny patch of grass between their resting hands. _How embarrassing,_ she thinks, but she can’t stop the smile.

“We should make another,” she says, still looking very intently at the grass. “For you.”

“I’d like that,” Mahariel tells her, hand grazing Merrill’s wrist as she reaches toward the leftover flowers.

But Merrill finds her calm, hoping sheer willpower can clear the pink tinge on her nose and cheeks. “Junar will be so jealous,” she says, giggling at the thought of him begging for flowers in his hair too.

“Good,” Mahariel tells her, the laugh spilling over her lips.

She drops a few long-stemmed flowers in Merrill’s lap. “They won’t be around much longer, you know, with the fall coming.”

Merrill begins her wreath, only using her magic a little to help with the fragile stems. “We should make as many as we can, then,” she says.


End file.
